


Sometime Around Midnight

by Soul4Sale



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: AU - Modern AU, Alcohol Abuse, Cheating, M/M, Smut, unbeta’d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan had broken it off with him, laughed it off as some drunken indiscretions, told him there were no feelings involved. But he was lying. Fenris’ feelings had been involved from the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometime Around Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event is possibly my Fenris/Ethan (Ethris) theme song. Their relationship is complicated, and as much as I love Fenris, Anders usually gets my heart. I can’t not love him. So Ethan can’t not love him. xD This is going to be painful, but I’ve needed to write _something_ painful for a while. I have so much pent up rage and depression that I think it will be good to get this out.

Fenris couldn't believe it was already three months since Ethan had tossed him aside for that mage. Anders had best enjoy his time in the limelight, Fenris thought, because it was not likely to be for very long before Ethan's attentions wandered again. The man was like a tornado that could reach out to block anyone from the eye of the storm. He was intoxicating, and even after all this time, the elf was prone to whispers and bit off moans if he so much as smelled the same brand of aftershave the mage used. It was just his luck, wasn't it, to fall in love with a cheating, soul-crushing mage. Even still, he couldn't hate Ethan Hawke, no matter how hard he tried. If the man walked into the bar right now and asked to be taken back, he would probably have his wish granted. 

Smoke hung so heavy in the little rat-spit bar he'd been forced to take refuge in he was sure he could slice a little window in it. The man at the piano played a dismal theme in the back of his mind, the wine he already knocked back pulling his senses enough to barely register it. When it lulled to a stop as the next small-town band rolled up onto the small stage, he turned just enough to get a look at them before his mind was back to thinking about other things. Slugging down another glass of wine and raising a finger for another, he could hear the lyrics the singer belted out muddling in his head, telling him to just lose himself for a while. Closing heavy eyelids as the newest addition to his glass sloshed into place, he swayed slightly on the bar stool he’d parked on. The song spoke to him, deeply, in his incredibly inebriated state, and he found darkness meeting his eyes until the bell above the door rang, letting everyone know that a new patron or two had wandered in. Glancing blearily at the clock hung above the bar, he noted slowly it was sometime around midnight, past or before he wasn’t quite sure. Analog clocks had never been his strong suit, even less when he could hardly see straight. When his eyes dropped to the new arrivals, however, time stood still.

Gulping, Fenris had to blink a couple times. No, it couldn’t be. Not here. There was no way Ethan would ever go to a bar that wasn’t The Hanged Man, no, all of his friends went there… 

But there he was, as radiant as ever. Blonde hair softly licked at a thickly corded neck, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from raking over that body he knew so well like a physical drag. A white t-shirt clung desperately to his muscled chest, that sculpted stomach showing through the fabric before it was even damp with sweat. They both knew that Ethan had a ridiculous addiction to working out, always worried that the smallest amount of fat was going to turn him into a whale. That certainly wasn’t the thought in the elf’s mind as his eyes drifted to the obscenely tight pair of black leather pants hugging every curve and dip in the man’s legs, and he felt himself quiver. He sure hadn’t seen Hawke in a while.

Suddenly everything else seemed to dim around them, the bright light that was the eternal flame burning inside him amplified by the man who had broken his heart and kept it. Life seemed to slow to a near-stop, coasting at half a mile an hour or less, every movement of the blonde mage moving at a cheetah’s pace in comparison, as he easily strolled over to a small group of men that Fenris didn’t recognize. Among them, he didn’t see Anders, and it made him wonder if he’d already gotten his own rejection, but quickly he waved the thought away. There was no way he was going to let himself sympathize with the man who had stolen the breath of life from him.

The band, previously forgotten with the rest of the dull world around him, played a slower song, something that sounded like the perfect soundtrack to the curve of those devilish lips as he smiled for someone else, batting those thick lashes. He knew that look, and some part of him begged to make believe that it was for him. When those shockingly bright eyes focused on him, however, it took him a moment, in his drunken stupor, to realize that he wasn’t imagining it anymore. There was a spark in those aquamarine eyes, a curve to those lips, that spelled trouble with a capital T, and as the world began to rush too fast around him, he watched as the other man twisted and laughed and touched his fingers to his gaggle of men’s jawlines, to their shoulders. Gulping again, he watched as the bartender took his heart’s favorite drink to him, a tall glass of Dragon’s Blood; Ethan had always loved spicy things. Watching that Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed down the first few sips was like coming home; they’d always drank together. _You’re the best bartender in Kirkwall, Fenris._ Even if it was just in his head, hearing that voice again was a Godsend; until that laugh finally hit his eardrums like a dead weight. A heavy pit settled in his stomach, and he felt his heart sink, split in half, and drop into his feet.

One man, probably far too drunk for his own good, brought that beautiful body into his lap, sloppily putting his lips over a strong neck, a regal jawline. Fenris didn’t realize he’d been holding the glass so tightly until it nearly burst in his hand, the crack in the stem enough to alert the bartender.

“Watch it, Fenris.” The burly man spoke, “I don’t want any trouble, and I don’t need to have to clean up the glass if you break it.”

Even though the man’s voice was incredibly deep and carried well, it seemed somehow subdued when he heard a distinct moan that couldn’t have been anyone but _Ethan_. Ivy eyes immediately snapped back to his blonde heartthrob, and he immediately regretted it. 

Sandwiched between two rather large men, now, he cradled his drink to his chest like a cross, swaying to the beat the band had picked up seemingly just to watch him move. Every sway, every wind of his hips was practiced and perfect and he had to set his glass down before it shattered. Fenris remembered the way that the other male could dance, how he could make you feel like the only one even with a line of others ready to take your place (and probably quite capable). The haze of the wine kept him from truly seeing that, with every stir, every minute twist of his hips or his torso, those insatiable eyes were on him. For a moment, the elf’s own were unseeing, rage boiling in his gut as he watched those… Those pigs partake of something that was too damn _perfect_ for them to understand. What drew him out of it surprised him; the overwhelming scent of Ethan’s aftershave flooded his nose and he shook his head, turning slightly to his left to see, there, before him, was the picture of seduction.

“Oh, hello, Fenris.” The way he said it, it was like he hadn’t even noticed he was there, “How have you been?”

 _How have you been?_ The questioned bounced around his skull for what seemed like eons. For a moment, he was almost certain that the room had started to spin, belatedly realizing this odd dizziness was the product of too much wine and way too little exposure to Hawke. It wasn't for a few minutes that he realized, mostly from the curious look on the blonde's face, that he hadn't responded; had only stared with his lips parted like some kind of idiot.

“Hello, Hawke.” That voice still sounded gravelly and dark as whiskey, and it seemed to make the other smile a little more. “I have been…” What did he say? Heartbroken? Drinking more? “Well. How about you?”

“Oh, I’ve been fantastic. Anders took me to Rivain because he knows how much I love Rivaini food, and I’ve been working out more since. You know me.”

Every muscle in his body clenched with his need to find and throttle Anders, his chest tight and bordering on painful as he forced himself to offer a fake smile. He _did_ , in fact, know Hawke well enough to know what he was doing. Had he been a little more sober, he would have stopped it dead in its tracks. Sadly, he wasn’t.

“Of course… You can’t get enough Rivaini food, but you always worry it will make you fat.” There was a chuckle there, at the base of his words, that aimed for teasing but missed the mark by a thousand miles. He knew this was awkward, and he knew that Ethan probably knew it. Hell, he probably craved it. There was a reason he was here, and it probably had to do with Anders working late and his brother being a bore, he’d heard the same excuse a thousand times, with a hundred names or more. There was always an excuse, always a lack of interest, Ethan used people and left a trail of hearts behind him that could put the world’s circumference to shame. 

“I’m not looking too bad, am I? I’m afraid I hit the buffet tonight with a few friends.” He raised his glass to the men he’d been dancing with moments ago, and Fenris felt his heart clench painfully, like a car’s tires skidding over wet asphalt. 

“No,” Fishing for compliments was the closest to a hook and line Ethan would ever use, and the kicker was that Fenris fell right for it, “You’re looking radiant as ever, Hawke. You’re a handsome man.” He couldn’t even stop himself from throwing another appreciative gaze at the other, eyes following the way he flexed and stretched like a cat waiting for more attention. “Tight muscles, the works. I’m sure Anders will have a hard time keeping his hands to himself, tonight.” 

“Provided he isn’t too preoccupied with sleeping when he gets home. He usually just likes to cuddle and sleep when he’s had the overnight shift at the E.R.” Bragging, to be sure. He had a doctor under his thumb, wrapped around his little finger and begging to be twisted up more. Boy, did Fenris now this game by heart, and he always played the same way, with his heart on his sleeve, ready to be judged. “Anyway, I’d better get back before they miss me, too much.” _Like I’ve missed you all this time._ It crossed his mind to say it, but he just gave a wry smile and tipped his wine back like it might save him. “It was good seeing you, Fenris. Take care.” With a wink, that blond fox was off, back to his ‘friends’. 

Fenris would have bet all the money he had on him that Ethan couldn’t have named even one of them.

Suddenly, between one glass of wine and another, he knew his heart was leaving, he looked him in the eye before bolting with someone he had never met before. The elf’s blood boiled, his stomach roiling with rage, and remorse, as he watched the mage nearly skip out the door. He was certain that the room was spinning again, it couldn’t have been him, and it took one breath before he was out the door after them, glass in hand and bartender just shaking his head as he let him go.

It didn’t matter what he looked like, he was too drunk to care, the world breaking up in his vision as hot tears ran marathons down his cheeks. He knew where to go, that ritzy hotel that Ethan always chose, and with his feet just leading him forward, the glass abandoned in pieces behind him, he gasped and choked on his breath. Nobody could make him care like Ethan had, and he knew he had to at least see him one more time to quell his need. He could keep it to just this one time.

He _couldn’t_ just keep it to this one time.

Bursting into the lobby of the Kirkwall Express or whatever it was called, he could hardly remember, he stumbled to the desk, the startled woman there looking like she might flee.

“C-Can… May I help you, sir?” Had he been more coherent, he would have marveled at her ability to put on a brave face and confront him, even when she looked like a bird too frightened to land.

“Ethan… Hawke.” He croaked, voice gravelly as usual, somehow deeper and almost unintelligible. “Ethan Hawke’s room, please.” He had to add the last word, almost on a prayer.

“O-Oh!” It seemed that he wasn’t the first to ask for it, because she didn’t even need to look, “309. He must be expecting you.” Handing over a keycard, she directed him towards the elevator and sent him on his way, even if, maybe, he slurred a thank you and stumbled along like a man possessed. Honestly, if he stopped and tried to think this through, he’d know this was a bad idea. Possibly the worst he’d ever made, actually, but his brain was having none of it, now. The room was obvious, he didn’t need to look for the number with his eyes out of focus, the sounds alone drove him forward like dogs at his heels to room three-hundred and nine. Every stuttered step forward was another slice to his bleeding heart, and when his hand crashed into the knob, he knew what he would find on the other side and pushed on, anyway.

The keycard swiped before he knew what was happening, and he stood at the foot of the bed, almost looking confused for a moment, like he’d had no idea when he’d moved there. Ethan, on his hands and knees, looked up with enough time to get out ‘Fen’ before a hand came to his mouth to silence him.

“I… I just need…” Fenris started, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, “I just need to see you.” He began, those dark fingers tracing Ethan’s plump, kiss-swollen lips. The man behind him didn’t seem to care that the elf had interrupted, continuing to pump out moans and pleas for more from the blond, and only causing his jealousy to bubble to the surface. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d opened his pants, presented his turgid, weeping length, and the mage knew just what to do to cure what ailed his sometimes lover.

The second those lips closed around the head of his cock, he felt like he’d come home, the way those cheeks hollowed sent his soul on a ride through a refreshed state. A moan not unlike a scream was pulled from his throat without his brain’s proper permission, and he couldn’t have cared because Ethan _was there and he wasn’t pushing him away_. At least, not yet.

While he knew the other man was still there, the constant slapping of skin on skin evidence to the fact, all he saw was Ethan and himself. Black edged in on his vision until life only existed of where he ended and Ethan began, and it rocketed him to his orgasm before he was even ready. Nearly doubled over, chin pressed to his hair, he felt his entire being quiver, from flesh to soul, as he emptied himself into the other’s talented mouth. Petting over his shoulders, he couldn’t help the way he growled when his little world was broken again by the chuckle of the man now over him.

“Can’t handle him, there, knife-ear?” He sneered, only to get a shock that wasn’t quite pleasurable from the mage beneath them both.

“Fenris is a special customer, Lare. Leave him be.” Ethan managed, catching his breath after Fenris pulled back and began to pack himself away. He shared a soft smile with the blond before leaving the room, the keycard left on the table. Even as he tried to work his brain away from the other, he sighed softly. 

They both knew he’d be back.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I’ve had this sitting for a long time. I’m so glad I finally got it done. xD I hope you guys enjoyed!
> 
> Dragon’s Blood Drink Recipe:
> 
> 4 oz Cinnamon Schnapps  
> 3 oz Club Soda  
> 3 oz Vodka
> 
> Mix together with crushed ice in a glass and garnish with mint leaves.


End file.
